


Cartrouble

by koakuma_tsuri



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Possibly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:52:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1364710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koakuma_tsuri/pseuds/koakuma_tsuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following a break-down, Alastair and Kevin have to spend the night alone in the wilderness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cartrouble

**Author's Note:**

> So, in an interview KP said that the only crime he’d commit would be to steal a vehicle and go into one of the safari parks at night since “interesting things happen after dark”. The prompt itself comes courtesy of Tayla.

Either because they’re used to seeing vehicle after vehicle during the day, or because they’re just not used to it at all after dark, the game don’t really seem to mind the headlights. The dim ochre hue doesn’t illuminate them enough to distract them or frighten them, Alastair supposes. It’s just enough light to show an outline of a wildebeest, or the stark stripes of the zebra that graze in wandering groups. Their eyes shine brightly, making the usually impressive and beautiful creatures far more eerie than usual.

When the mixed herd finally ambles completely across the dirt track carved through the savannah, Kevin restarts the car, moving gently past the animals as to not unnecessarily frighten them away. He’s told Alastair of times he had come to the park during the day only to see very little because a car that had come earlier had been loud and careless and the skittish herbivores had scattered, taking their predators with them.

They’re here now because there’s no chance of that. And because, so Alastair’s been told, the animals tend to be more active after dark. Despite what the footage on just about every nature documentary everywhere seems to suggest, most of the killing and feeding frenzies tend to happen at night. It’s one of the reasons why entry to the park is strictly forbidden after dark. And why Kevin has risked everything in _acquiring_ this jeep.

Maybe Alastair’s just as insane for agreeing to come along, but the child-like hope in Kevin’s eyes when he expressed just how much he wanted Alastair to love the country of his birth as much as he does just shone too brightly for the Englishman to ignore.  He had accepted despite his better judgement but sometimes he really does have to cut loose. Once upon a time, he thought becoming Kevin’s lover would be that one reckless thing he did in his mature-beyond-his-years life, but now he finds himself getting drawn into wilder and wilder things.

South Africa truly is beautiful after dark. The moon is bright and the stars clear in the sheer absence of man-made light. Insects sing and buzz: a constant noise under the occasional snort of a zebra or the scuff of hooves on the dusty ground. Then a loud hissing drowns out everything. Alastair’s immediate thought is _snake_ and panics because he’s only ever heard tales of spitting cobras and black mambas.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Kevin mutters under his breath, and reaches for something that makes the familiar sound of a bonnet catch releasing.

He glances forwards and finds smoke pouring from underneath the sun-worn green metal. “What’s happened?” he whispers urgently, not for the wish not to scare any animals that might be nearby because that’s what he had been told earlier, but to not alert any bigger, scarier, _fang-ier_ creatures that might be near by. “What’s wrong?”

“Overheated, I guess,” Kevin groans, hitting his fists against the steering wheel. He turns the car off and they’re shrouded in complete blackness.

Alastair scrambles to find the torch that had been on his lap for the last hour but had fallen somewhere in his amazement and complacency. He hears Kevin shuffle and the door of the jeep open. Frantically, abandoning the search for the torch, he flings a hand up to find the little light above the rear-view mirror. “What’re you doing?! Where’re you going?!”

“…going to see what the problem is?” the South African says flatly, looking at him with bemusement. Maybe it’s the softer light that makes Alastair’s fear all the more innocent, but with that glance, Kevin offers a smile. “I will literally be a second.”

“There’s _things_ out there…”

“I’m only going to be a second,” Kevin repeats and affectionately ruffles Alastair’s hair. “Promise, Babe.”

The Englishman purses his lips to show his displeasure and how that babying touch does nothing for him. But he still watches with wide eyes as Kevin turns and slides out of the car. The windows are open fully, so his listens out for any noise, though he suspects leopards and lions move with more stealth than housecats. And he’s half torn between keeping an eye on Kevin and making sure nothing tries to get into the jeep with him.

His lover lifts the bonnet and huffs. It must be worse than anticipated, probably because of the age of these safari vehicles. He shrinks back into his chair, arms tight around his chest and wishes that he had brought some sort of jacket with him. The heat is sticky but bearable; the mosquitoes, however, not.

Kevin returns, slumping into the seat and sighs. “It’s overheated.”

“So we have to wait for it to cool?”

“Yeah... might take a while.”

“Really?!” Alastair groans and presses his fingertips to his temples. He’s an idiot. And absolute idiot. Agreeing to _break the rules_ all for his boyfriend’s stupid wish and they’re going to get caught by the park rangers if they don’t get eaten first. He should’ve said no. _No, you stupid man, we’re going to sit in the cabin like every other person here and enjoy the night on the veranda with a bottle or two of wine_.

He jumps when Kevin’s hand plants itself on his thigh and slides inwards. The touch is warm and clammy through his cotton shorts and far from comforting. “Remember what we did the last time we were in the middle of nowhere in a car?”

Alastair looks down at that hand that keeps on stroking and wandering and glances up at Kevin to show how unimpressed he is. “I do, yes. But Devon is slightly less dangerous than South Africa.”

Kevin hums, shuffling in the seat and unbuckling Alastair’s seat belt. “Danger’s a turn-on though, right,” he hums again, nuzzling into that smooth skin behind Alastair’s ear that makes him shiver and respond. “ Babe?”

Clenching his jaw, Alastair snaps his neck towards Kevin, effectively shooing him. “I’m not in the mood, Kev,” he also casts Kevin’s hand back to his own lap before crossing his arms again.

It’s impossible to keep still and appear as calm and in control as he is in every other aspect of his life. Only to his left can he hear the tall grass rustling and the twisted branches of trees creaking like something is crawling among them. In the distance he swears he can hear that unnatural laughter of hyenas. He has no idea how much time passes by, but Kevin sighs occasionally and rubs at his stubble like he does when he’s bored. He’s probably disappointed too.

If Alastair didn’t know better he’d think that his lover’s advance had been just that – looking for sex to pass the time, but knowing Kevin how he does, it was an attempt to salvage the night and make it as enjoyable as it should – and had – of been. But Alastair was simply not in the mood.

He’s _definitely_ sure he can hear hyenas now. And they’re squabbling and squabbling hyenas means agitated and angry and excitable hyenas. _Dangerous_ hyenas. He knows he’s shaking but there’s nothing he can do to stop it. They’re going to get torn apart by the freakiest animals in the world.

“Babe,” Kevin calls gently and slides his arm between the worn leather seat and the Englishman’s neck. “Come here,”

Alastair allows himself to be pulled towards him. It’s not the most comfortable of positions, but there’s always been something about Kevin’s larger form that’s calmed him somewhat. The man smells of expensive cologne and sweat; warm to the touch and leans towards him just to be all the more close.

“You’re completely safe.”

Alastair scoffs, twisting his hand in Kevin’s soft T-shirt and finding his usual pillow of his shoulder, tucked under his prickly jaw. “You are aware that everything around us can kill us, right?”

“Yeah, but, I _grew up_ here. I survived.”

Huffing, Alastair wriggles because he knows when he does so, Kevin always hugs him tighter. Either in an attempt to still him or because he understands the wish to be held, it’s never quite clear but he never fails to do so. Kevin also presses a kiss to his hair and soothingly rubs waist.

 “Do you want to climb into the back? You’ll be more comfortable.”

“I’m fine.”

“Really? The gear stick isn’t—”

He grumbles and he know he really shouldn’t be so beastly when Kevin only has his best interests at heart, but it is utterly his fault they’re out here in the first place. Maybe he should’ve stolen a more reliable car, or maybe he should’ve picked a less humid night. But it’s all Kevin’s fault. “Being with you, I am more than used to things prodding me uncomfortably.”

The South African just laughs, withdrawing his arms and pushing him up. “C’mon Babe. Move.”

Rife with reluctance because moving means noise and distraction, Alastair clambers through the gap between the driver and passenger seats and lies down on the sticky leather. He’s too tall to fit completely lengthways, but it is definitely more comfortable and better for his neck. And maybe he feels slightly safer being out of the sight of anything big and furry.

“I’m going to turn the light out, Babe,” the South African says softly and with the patience of a parent talking to a nervous child – Alastair doesn’t want to admit it, but he definitely feels that way; scared of the monsters in the wardrobe. Only _his_ monsters are very real, very powerful, hungry and only a car door away. Just like that child, Alastair protests. The light is a comfort. Absolutely useless, because it’s so weak it won’t illuminate anything that approaches the car, but still _light keeps monsters away_. Unless those monsters are territorial big cats…

He sighs and watches Kevin to reach up to the switch. In the darkness he hears leather squeak and Kevin blindly, and clumsily, climbs into the back with him – not without an elbow in the gut and a knee dangerously close to his groin.

“Now I know why we have sex with the lights on,” Alastair grunts and slings his arms around the South African’s torso as they settle, Kevin lying atop him.

“It’s not because I’m so handsome?”

“With your tongue hanging out like some demented Labrador?” Alastair looks up at him though he looks at nothing. The moon isn’t so bright that it illuminates more than the shiny spikes of Kevin’s hair. He’s nearly smiling, distracted from their current situation. Maybe if they kept talking it’ll be like that night they spent on Dartmoor and the rustling of the grass outside could be put down as grazing sheep. “Hardly.”

Kevin laughs and nuzzles under his chin, pushing it up so he can kiss his neck with a gentle suction. “I’ll remember that one.”

Scoffing, Alastair slides his hands down Kevin’s back and lets him do as he wants. The kisses feel nice. He’s used to falling asleep like this, hot and sticky, with his lover’s weight upon him and those lips refusing to give him up easily. He could do… The hyenas’ laughing has drifted away and he can try to ignore anything he can’t see and hear.

After a while, Kevin settles down with his head on Alastair’s clavicle. He’s not asleep because the Englishman can still feel his eyelashes brushing against his skin as he blinks. And one hand affectionately rubs his stomach. It’s what he does when he wants Alastair to go to sleep, and he knows it. And it stops him from giving into that fuzzy calmness that comes with the touch.

With a furrowed brow, Alastair mumbles. “The car didn’t overheat at all, did it?”

“No,” Kevin says and purses his lips tightly. He’s many things, but a liar is not one. “The radiator hose has gone. We’re not going anywhere.”

Inhaling shakily, Alastair rubs his fingertips into his temple and then into his hair. He’s trying not to panic but he has no idea what time it is now and how long they’ll be left here. How long until those hyenas return. Or worse. Actually, he thinks he prefers Death By Cat. A quick bite to sever the spinal cord is much more painless than being ripped apart.

“Baby,” Kevin calls softly in that silver-dusted darkness and Alastair feels lips against his cheek. Perhaps he was aiming for a kiss and missed, or he’s just being sweet. “Baby, you’re safe. Sunrise won’t be long and then the rangers will come and find us and—”

“—Then we’ll get arrested.”

“No we won’t,” the South African chuckles and shuffles so he’s more comfortable, settling his weight on his forearms to stroke back Alastair’s fringe blindly. “I’ll turn on the charm… you know, that thing that got me you?”

Alastair can tell he’s smiling just from the tone in his voice, but not that arrogant sort of grin that he sees most of the time. It’s that softer, tender smile that so few get to see and every time lets Alastair know how loved he is. “It was more than the charm, Kev.”

“ _Hmm_ , yeah, the sex helped too, I guess,”

Rolling his eyes, Alastair re-curls his arms around his lover’s neck and pulls him tight enough that he can kiss the first bit of bare skin he can feel. He has no idea what it is, but it’s warm and fragrant and tastes like _safe_.

“Even if I do look like a demented Labrador.”

Alastair opens his mouth to reply, about to comment on how fortunate it is that he likes dogs, when there’s a loud snort very close to the jeep. In the silence, wide-eyed to the point of petrifaction, he hears stomping, rustling and more guttural vocalisations.

“What’s that?” he asks quietly, urgently.

Kevin raises his head as if listening for a moment before settling back as they had been a little while ago, with his head on the Englishman’s shoulder. Only not as comfortably because it’s moving to a rapid pace and Alastair is stiff with that age-old instinct of _fight or flight_. But the latter, definitely the latter. “Hippos, I think.”

“Hippos,” Alastair mutters and purses his lips tight together. “As in _Africa_ _’s most dangerous animal_ hippos?”

“No. Hippos as in _bloody-great fat cows that have no interest in us whatsoever right now_ ,” the tone is sharp, as Kevin sounds when irritated. He then sighs and tilts his head to kiss Alastair’s exposed throat. It’s as good as an apology as he can ever expect to receive and it’s pointless to argue. If they do, Kevin will storm off, being impulsive and reckless and Alastair cann’t bear to think what would happen them. And even if he didn’t storm off, the prospect of sitting in the car irate at each other is unfavourable too.

“You sure they’ll leave us alone?”

“Yeah, Babe,” Kevin keeps nuzzling his neck and planting the occasional kiss which returns Alastair to the sleepy fuzziness he had been almost ready to give into before. “I promise. Now get some rest.”

Humming, Alastair closes his eyes and sighs. Kevin’s never gone back on a promise and he supposes the man did grow up here and has been on more safaris than anyone else he knows. But it’s hard to sleep when his senses are so finely turned. That constant rumble of the animals outside; the smell of them like nothing he’s ever smelt before and how Kevin so gingerly rubs his stomach, and how Kevin’s warmth seeps through him, still clammy and maybe a little _too much_ , but he’s so used to it. He loves it now.

Alastair vaguely registers his lover whispering something into his ear, and the kiss that accompanies, before the darkness that surrounds consumes him whole.

He wakes to the stark knock of metal on glass: a tap like someone is trying to get their attention. Kevin jolts awake and his movement blinds Alastair with a light he supposes is Day. He scrunches his eyes, groaning in discomfort and displeasure; _pain_ as Kevin finally does knee him in the groin.

By the window opposite, a stern-faced man in a ranger’s uniform lowers his hand from the jeep window. His gun is strapped around his shoulder and Alastair glances, worried, at Kevin who just straightens his shirt like this is just some everyday wake-up call.

“Charm, Babe,” he smirks, “We’ll be home in time for breakfast, _promise_.”


End file.
